


Unspoken

by MCRmyGeneral



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father/Son Incest, M/M, kinda sorta a little bit of fluff if you squint really hard, mostly just smut though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 12:06:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2580848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MCRmyGeneral/pseuds/MCRmyGeneral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I was thinking of a story set very soon after Lori's death. Rick and Carl are both distraught. Rick is on the outskirts of the prison, outside the fence and Carl goes to get him to stop the madness because he's worried about his dad. Rick breaks down and is like "I have nothing left." Carl's like "You have me." Then Carl proves his love with sex."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unspoken

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RickGrimes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RickGrimes/gifts).



> This was super fun to write! Thanks for the suggestion, cuz this is probably one of my favorite fanfics I've ever written!
> 
> Sorry it took so long! I hope you love it!
> 
>  
> 
> *Send me a prompt or request at ieroween1031.tumblr.com

Carl watched Maggie's hair blow around her face as she and Daryl sped out through the prison gates. He knew he should feel some kind of anger or ill will toward her. After all, she technically killed his mother. But all he found was gratitude, deep beneath the anguish and the tears. If she hadn’t stepped up and did what she did, he might not have a baby sister right now.

Carl panicked for a moment when he couldn’t see the infant, until he saw the bundle of plaid in Beth’s arms. Once again, he tried to be angry. That child was the reason Lori needed to be cut open, anyway. But once again, looking at the baby brought no hostility. Just protectiveness, a territorial feeling. She was his. His baby sister, his responsibility. He swore to himself and to the child that he would always protect her. He’d do anything and everything in his power to make sure she lived as happily and normally as possible. She was a Grimes, and even if they didn’t have much, they'd always have each other.

He turned toward his father, only to find him gone. He rushed over to where Hershel and Beth were seated on the metal bleachers.

“My dad?” he asked, his voice soft.

Beth shook her head apologetically, but Hershel nodded toward the yard. Following his gaze, Carl saw that the wire that they'd used to patch the hole in the fence was tangled on the ground.

Before he went after his father, Carl leaned down, kissing his sister’s forehead. Then he turned and ran.

####

How had he gotten all the way out here? Rick wasn't sure. The numbness was spreading through his body. But at least he wasn't crying anymore. He hated crying. Especially in front of Carl.

He didn’t know where he was going; he was just walking. When he finally found a secluded spot, one where he could barely see the prison through the trees, he fell to his knees.

“Oh, God,” He sobbed quietly. So much for not crying anymore.

As he cried, it struck him that he wasn’t crying for Lori. As evil as it sounded, it was true. Of course, he was upset to learn of her death. But while the first ten years of their marriage brought them close, the last four or five saw them gradually drifting apart. And while he was upset, he wasn’t as distraught as he’d be if he’d still loved her. His and Lori’s marriage had been crumbling for years, and while they tried their hardest to keep it together, to give Carl a stable home and family, eventually the pieces turned to dust. Rick had long ago acknowledged that it had happened before the dead had started to walk, though neither he nor Lori were eager to admit it, even to themselves.

He’d spilled his tears for his once-wife. Those dried even before Maggie and Daryl had left. No, the tears now were for Carl. His only son, his closest friend. No child (and Carl still was a child, no matter how hard he tried to prove it to Rick or even himself) should have to see their mother sliced open and bled out. And what Carl had to do… One look at his son’s tear-streaked face, and Rick knew. He knew that somewhere in the catacombs of the prison was his wife’s body, with a bullet from his son’s gun in her skull.

“It’s all gone,” He whispered to himself, his head in his hands. “Your best friend, your wife. Shane’s gone, Lori’s gone. The world is ending. There’s nothing left. You have nothing. _I_ have nothing,” He whispered to himself.

“Fuck you,” Came a stern voice from behind him.

Rick looked over his shoulder to see Carl standing a few feet away, having followed Rick to ensure he was still sane. Or well, as sane as he was before.

“Carl, I-“

“Nothing? You have _nothing_ , Dad?” Carl yelled, and a flock of birds scattered at the sound. “You have four walls and a roof protecting you from the undead. Do you think the same can be said for all the other survivors? You're surrounded by people that love you, people that would kill for you. You have a beautiful baby girl. That child is a miracle. You have a son. A son that loves you more than anyone else in this world, in ways you can’t even begin to understand. You have a family. It’s broken and mismatched, but it’s a family nonetheless. And that family depends on you, they need you. You lost your wife, and I'm sorry. But don’t you dare say that you have nothing. What am _I_ , Dad? Am I just nothing to you?”

Rick shook his head as Carl's harsh words sank in. The kid was right. Regardless of recent events, he was one of the luckiest people in the world. How could he have been so blind?

“No,” He whispered, holding his hand out to Carl, who took it willingly, hugging his father securely. “You’re everything Carl. Your sister, too. You’re _my_ everything. You always have been. You're what’s kept me strong this long. It was never your mother; it was always you,” Rick whispered fiercely.

Carl sniffled, the last of his tears drying. “I love you, Dad.”

Before Rick could answer, Carl had leaned in, kissing his father softly.

Rick's first reaction should've been to pull away. Maybe slap the boy, and tell him that this was wrong. But he couldn't bring himself to do that. Not when he was finally realizing how much he wanted this, his son. Not when they'd both lost so much. They couldn't lose each other.

Rick softly pulled the sheriff's hat from his son's head, tossing it to the ground and then tangling his hand in Carl's dirty, stringy hair, softly licking his way into the boy's mouth.

Carl pulled away from his father's lips, but only to take a breath before he was back at it, kissing him with an intensity that Rick had never seen from the boy before. But he liked it. The slow tenderness they'd started with was burning off quickly, like alcohol reducing on a flame as both men came to terms with their hidden desires, leaving them both gasping for air and clawing at each other's clothing.

Rick grabbed Carl by the shirt and pulled him to the ground with him, flipping him over onto his stomach almost effortlessly.

Carl smiled as he let himself be thrown around like a rag doll, drunk on the fact that finally, _finally_ , after months of lust and confusion, his father was touching him.

Rick was nearly growling as he yanked at Carl's jeans, pulling them down and then off in mere seconds, the animal in him surfacing. For two years now, he'd watched his boy grow into a man, and now, on top of him with one hand wrapped in his hair and the other in his mouth, Rick was able to recognize what he'd been feeling for so long. As he fell out of love with Lori, his feelings for his only son grew stronger. Remembering Carl as his son, and _very_ underage left a guilty taste in Rick's mouth (deep down, he was still a man of the law, with those same morals buried somewhere within him), but it was quickly forgotten as he lost himself in the way Carl was tracing his fingers with his tongue, making sure they were good and slick to make the prep less painful.

Deciding to later focus on how Carl knew what he was doing, Rick instead centered his entire attention span on the image of his fingers lost inside his son's reddened, stretched hole.

"Dad," Carl groaned below him, and Rick froze.

"Carl?" He asked warily, hoping he hadn't been too eager and hurt the boy. Or that Carl wasn't about to ask him to stop. He honestly wasn't sure that he could now, with the boy opened and ready, tight and wet around his fingers. He was almost salivating for the boy, and if he was stopped now-

"More," Carl moaned, wanton and needy and Rick had never heard anything as arousing as his son's sex voice. He hoped this wouldn't be the only time he'd get to hear it. "Fuck, more, please, D-" He cut himself off with a gasp when Rick curled his fingers. Carl dug his own fingers into the dirt, arching his back when Rick brushed that spot again. He didn't know what it was, but it punched him in the gut with arousal and blurred his vision.

"Like that?" Rick asked, cocking his fingers again, and Carl's entire body trembled as he whimpered. Rick was desperate to get inside the boy and fuck him into the ground, but he was afraid of going too far or too fast. That worry quickly evaporated however, when Carl grunted out a "Please, more. Your cock, just fuck me already, _please_."

His son's filthy mouth was a turn-on straight outta left field, but Rick went with it, giving in by withdrawing his fingers and pushing into his boy.

Carl moaned the entire time Rick was inching his way into him, a low purr from his chest.

Rick surprised himself when he didn't lose his orgasm as soon as he was inside the boy. Lori had always been adamant about not allowing anal sex, which meant that this tightness was something completely new to Rick, almost overwhelming.

As he settled against Carl's ass, Rick thought proudly that he had just claimed his son's virginity. At least, he better have. Something else to ask Carl about at a later time.

"Harder," Carl gasped. Rick wasn't aware that he'd begun moving at all yet, but he obeyed, picking up his pace and thrusting into the boy quicker and harder. Carl shuddered with arousal as his wish was granted.

"Jesus Christ, Carl," Rick groaned, already on the verge of orgasm.

Carl smirked, like he knew _exactly_ how great a fuck he was. It was a teasing, cocky smirk that made Rick kinda want to smack him, but mostly it just made him really fucking horny.

Rick tightened his grip on Carl's too-long hair and thrust a little harder still, knowing that in addition to a sore ass and scalp, Carl would be sporting some beautiful, hidden bruises for the next few days.

"Dad, Dad, Dad," Carl gasped with every thrust in. Rick felt a little guilty that he wasn't helping Carl get off, but he was pressed completely into the ground; there was no room for him to snake his hand beneath his son and help him off. Not without changing his pace, and that was _not_ happening.

It didn't matter, though, because seconds later, Carl was shooting into the leaves beneath him, a moan of "Fuck, Dad!" spilling from his swollen, bitten lips.

Carl's orgasm had him tightening and clenching around Rick, and that sensation had Rick barreling toward his own release, emptying himself into his son, fully claiming him.

As an afterthought, Rick leaned down, biting and sucking none-too-gently on Carl's neck, where the bruise would be barely hidden beneath the boy's shirt collar.

Carl smiled and gasped, enjoying the sensation. He'd never gotten a hickey before. Good. That meant the boy was Rick's and only Rick's.

With one final sharp bite and a lapping of the blood he'd managed to pull from Carl's skin, Rick pulled out of his son, who mewled in disappointment.

Rick collapsed beside Carl into the leaves, both men's chests heaving with pants.

Carl looked like he'd been fucked well; his hair was mussed, his lips were swollen, his face was red. And he was breathing like an 80 year old man with asthma.

When Carl met Rick's eyes, he froze.

"Dad," he panted, "Did we just make a mistake?" His voice sounded small, like he was scared. Nervous about his father's answer. Nervous about being pushed away, or called sick.

The vulnerability in Carl's eyes, and even moreso in his voice were almost too much. Rick couldn't believe that this perfect, brave, strong, beautiful boy was his, in every sense of the word.

Rick didn't answer him. Instead, he reached over, grabbing him by the elbow and pulling him closer until Carl's head was resting on his chest. Still Rick said nothing, hoping that Carl would grasp that Rick was on Cloud Nine right now, and he wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. He ran his fingers through Carl's hair, picking out the leaves and twigs. He leaned down and kissed the top of his head.

Carl sighed. "Yeah," he whispered, listening to his father's heartbeat, "I love you, too."


End file.
